“Howl” by Florence + the Machine Inspires Tori

Reunion

It’s only when his fangs scrape against my tongue that the reality of Nathan’s transformation truly hits me. When coppery blood fills the kiss, we both pull back. Nathan extracts himself with a gasp and steps back a few feet, looking at me warily, like I’m the vampire.

I swallow. My mouth tastes like blood.

“Liam,” Nathan says my name, his voice shaky. He looks like he’s ready to bolt, and I can’t have that, not now that I have him back.

“You’re alive,” I say again. I’ve said it ten times, but I can’t quite get it through my head. I’d held out hope, of course–there was no body, and while vampires aren’t known for leaving bodies behind, I’d wanted to believe–but even Nathan’s parents had accepted he was dead. They buried an empty coffin and everything.

Nathan doesn’t move. His brown eyes are colder than they used to be.

“This is an interesting place.” I gesture to the clearing with the dilapidated church and its forgotten little cemetery. The full moon casts a soft blue light that reflects off the headstones. The dead tug at my awareness, trying to pull my attention. I ignore them. When he first appeared, I was afraid Nathan was a ghost, too, just another spirit reaching out to me. I don’t love that he’s a vampire, but as far as dead boyfriends go, a corporeal body is a plus.

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“Howl” by Florence + the Machine Inspires Anne

Perigee

 We dart through nighttime waters, close to the sand ridges along the bottom. I clutch Hvrēssē’s[1] hand in mine.

In our wake, alluvium swirls up, and then drifts down to the ocean floor. A pattern will form and be washed away, form and be washed away with each wave or tail flick.

The vial of blood in my other hand flashes silver in the moonlight. The pull of land sings like a tsunami from the palm of my hand all the way to my beating heart. Hvrēssē grins at me, sharp teeth and delight. We swim faster until we feel the water around us change. It grows lighter and freer of brine. The river current ripples through our hair and over our fins.

“Almost there,” Hvrēssē says. She gulps the last of the true seawater past her gills. “Hurry.”

I admire her sense of urgency. Admire the way her pale flesh melds into the gray of her tail. The dark stripes that almost go all the way around but leave her underside gray like the stormy skies far out to sea. Like home.

My muscles burn as I try to match her powerful strokes when she dives into the fresh water. It’s warm and light. Sweet and deadly.

“Get out your knife,” I shout above the sound of the river fighting against the open sea.
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